A Grudge Against the Prices
by mollywritesthings
Summary: Molly Drake... the beloved daughter of our well known Alex. Here is the story about what happens to her when her mother leaves her world to 1981. And does she ever get to see her mother again? (Sorry if anything similar has been written before... I had an urge to write this!)
1. Chapter One - Happy Birthday to Me

"My name is Sam Tyler. I had an accident and I woke up in 1973. Was I mad? In a coma? Or back in time? Whatever had happened, it was like I'd landed on a different planet. If I could figure out why I was here, then maybe I could get back home… yeah, whatever. That is so lame." It was then I came to the conclusion that my mum spent her days talking with complete and utter lunatics. It sounded very much to me like this Sam Tyler was very much mad. I could never understand why my mum did psychiatry… psychology… whatever it is.

"Yep, return the classified document, thank you." Mum took the file away from me and put it in the back seat. It wasn't fair, I was never allowed to read her documents. "What did Evan get you for your birthday, Molls?"

"A Blackberry." I replied. It wasn't like I was surprised, he had been dropping hints for weeks.

"Oh yeah? Maybe I could get you some more while you're at school, and you can make a birthday crumble."

I laughed at that, which caused my mum to smile. Her smile then faded as I looked out of the window.

"Did your dad manage -"

"No, he's in Canada with Judy." I informed her.

"Hm…" I didn't understand why she did that, what was so wrong with them being in Canada? He did apologise about it being my birthday…

"So this guy… Taylor…" I changed the subject, my curiosity on the strange subject getting the better of me.

"Tyler." Mum corrected instantly. I said nothing, waiting for her to tell me more. I could tell she was wary about telling me too much. "He died. April last year." She eventually added.

"Skitso, delusional… what's the German one?" I tried to impress Mum with my knowledge about brain stuff… unfortunately forgetting one. "Is he going in 'The Book'?" I wiggled my fingers as I said 'The Book'… the book full of all the interesting cases my mum had come across during her time as DI Drake, Police Psychologist… or was it Police Psychiatrist?

"Oh, DCI Tyler's getting a book all to himself." Mum replied ominously. Before I could reply, a voice checked in.

"Charlie 75 to DI Drake?" I recognised that this was a fellow police officer. Mum pressed the button and replied, me obediently staying quiet, intrigued.

"Roger that." Mum answered.

"South Bank outside Tate Modern." Charlie 75 said. "Gun man has taken female hostage. Units are assigned. Over."

"Shit. Molly, pass me the thing…"

"I'll do it!" I helpfully chirped, excitedly picking up the siren.

"Pass me -" Mum started, but didn't have time, and I rolled down the window and happily placed it on the roof.

"Okay, hold on." Mum warned, and began to drive much faster. I loved this. Mum took a quick turn, and I noticed that all her sheets on Sam Tyler spread out.

The journey was extremely fun… for me, anyway. This meant no school, and extremely fast driving. Mum, on the other hand, appeared to be very stressed. We got to the destination really quickly, and that was when the excitement began to wear off.

"Okay, now stay put, sweetheart." Mum hurriedly told me. And before I knew it, she was off.

"Mum, don't go…" I called after her, feeling like a silly five year old. I began to worry… like I always did when she went to things like hostage situations. I calmed myself with the thought that my mum was the strongest person I had ever met. She always came back.

This time, however, I had a cold feeling in my gut. This was my _birthday_. I couldn't not know what was going on. I would have called Evan but the Blackberry wasn't charged yet. So after a couple of minutes, I made the decision to leave the car and run to the crowd of people, cautioned off and desperate to know what was happening.

The first thing I heard and saw wasn't at all good.

"Now… get over here. Now!" Demanded a threatening, male voice. He looked really mean and horrible looking, I observed. He pointed a gun at my mother, who raised her hands up. Horrified, I watched as my mum obliged cautiously.

"I help people, Arthur, I help people who are trapped, I help them to find an escape route." Mum tried to appeal to the man named Arthur.

"You stop looking at me…" He warned, sounding like a crazy man. I made my way further forward, alarm bells ringing. "I don't like it…"

Arthur's hand shook as he held out the gun. Mum said nothing. He looked around and noticed a man in all black, aiming fire at him.

"I see you!" He shouted. "I see you… this is my show, you understand?" Mum took another step towards Arthur, and he brought his attention back to her. "I knew you when you were a little girl… you have your mother's eyes…"

He knew my mum when she was younger? He knew my grandma? I was curious for only a second, fear for Mum being my main emotion.

"I'm sorry… I…don't…" Mum sounded utterly baffled.

"I'm… happy. Hope you're happy too. Yeah." He nodded, then began to sing. "_I'm happy, hope you're happy too…_"

"What?" Mum, the Police Psychothingy, even sounded confused at this point. Arthur clicked the gun, ready to fire.

"Boom." He said manically. NO. He couldn't shoot her. He couldn't.

"Mum!" I exclaimed, running under the police tape towards her.

"MOLLY NO!" Mum screamed, trying to shield me, while Arthur started shouting alongside her. "DON'T SHOOT! THERE'S A CHILD!"

Mum was busy stopping armed policemen from shooting Arthur that she couldn't stop it from happening. Arthur then grabbed me, pulling me backwards and pointing a gun at me. Fear trickled through me. This was supposed to be my birthday… what if I died? I couldn't die, I was only thirteen! I had the sense to say nothing, scared he'd shoot me. Mum looked just as scared.

"Don't follow me, or I'll blow her head off." Arthur warned Mum. I just wanted to scream her name. This was a nightmare… crazy Tyler's, hostages… nope, I was going to wake up soon… but I wouldn't feel this much fear in a dream, would I?

"Down them steps…_down them steps_…" He ordered me, pushing me down. He wasn't grabbing me anymore, but I knew that there was still a gun pointing at my head. I quickly ran down, trying to put distance between me and him. I hoped that Mum would save the day… like she always did. "Stupid little girl." Arthur muttered.

Then he shot. But he didn't shoot me. He shot into the sky. I don't understand why he did that, but when I looked around, he was gone.

"MOLLY!" I heard Mum scream. I didn't want to move scared that he would come back. But I could sense Mum was here. I knew that she would stop anything bad happening…

I stumbled out, looked around and she was there.

"Molly!" She shouted again, running towards me.

"Mum!" I finally shouted, and as she hugged me tightly, I began to cry. Her hug was comforting, and I felt suddenly saved, as all the armed officers followed her down, as well as the crowd of onlookers. I had survived. Mum had survived. And I still had the whole day left to enjoy my birthday. But I didn't think of that. I just felt relief.

Mum walked me to a bridge of some sort. I didn't know the name. She had made some calls, as one of the police in uniform gave me his unused can of Sprite. We didn't really speak, but she held my hand more tightly than she ever did when I was four, and about to run off into a main road. She kept looking around, and I could almost hear her brain whirring as she tried to figure out where the man who could have killed us both was. Horrible thoughts began to fill my mind… that man was really scary, and the gun… and he could have killed us…

"Your godfather's going to take you home, Molly." Mum finally said. "I've got a stack of reports, and I'm… Oh, Molls, come here." Mum noticed that I had tears in my eyes, stopped and hugged me. "Come here…"

"You could have got killed in front of me!" I protested, glaring at her.

"Molly, I told you to stay in the car." Mum argued back gently. "You know, it's a hard, screwed up world, you know, but if you trust me, I can try to help you get through it."

I didn't know how to reply to that… I didn't want to believe the world was screwed up at all. Thankfully, I looked up and saw Evan. I beamed.

"Evan!" I cried, and ran to hug him.

"It's alright, Scrap." He comforted me, picking me up. "Let's say we get you a cake, a seriously chocolatey one, and then, um, I can pretend to know something about Shakira, and you can take the piss out of me."

"Molly!" Mum called out. Evan began to walk away, and I looked back, feeling loads better after seeing Evan. "We'll blow the candles out together, okay?"

"Okay!" I shouted back. Mum blew a kiss at me, and I made a show of jumping up to catch it.

"Come on, Scrap." Evan put his arm around me, and we walked away, me greatly anticipating that chocolate cake he had promised me.

**_- Hey! Thank you for reading the first chapter to my first fic. As you probably noticed, this is basically Molly's version of the events told before Alex got shot. I tried to get it as accurate as possible... spending one veryyyy long night listening to the same scene over and over again... then wanting to watch the whole episode. Please review, and other chapters are about to be uploaded! - _**


	2. Chapter Two - But She's My Mum

"Evan, please stop singing 'Hips Don't Lie'" I protested, half laughing.

"Are you telling me I'm not talented, Scrap?" Evan joked, but his eyes darted towards the clock on the wall. Half past five. Mum should have at least have gotten in touch by now… surely?

"I won the school talent show last year." I informed him proudly.

"I know, I think you may have mentioned."

I smiled, then sighed.

"I want to have my birthday cake now." I stated.

"Your mother wants to blow the candles out with you. She won't be long."

At that moment, I believed him. So I happily unplugged my Blackberry and began to download the different apps. An hour passed. Evan had to send a few emails, so I sat in his living room, flicking through the channels and feeling increasingly fed up, but hoped that the reason Mum was taking ages was because she was planning a huge surprise for me. Turns out she most definitely did.

Evan ran down the stairs, a look of pure panic on his bearded face. I turned around, absolutely confused as to what he was so stressed about.

"Molly, we're leaving." Evan said sharply. I looked around, greatly intrigued. He called me Molly, which just didn't happen.

"Why, where are we going?"

"The hospital."

Evan marched off, and I sped walked after him.

"Evan, why?" I protested.

Evan looked around at me, and his eyes watered up. He had stress lines and he seemed to look sick as he swallowed, and quickly said, "Your mother."

"Why?" I asked quietly.

"She… well she's been shot, Molly." Evan's pain appeared how I felt. After everything that we had gone through that day, she still got shot. I began to cry, and Evan pulled me into a hug.

"Oh, Scrap." He sighed, his voice shaky.

"Is she going to die?" I asked.

"No." Evan replied. "No she isn't. She's strong, your mother. I promise she will be okay."

I felt comforted by this. He was right… Mum would definitely be okay. She couldn't not be.

"Can we see her?" I stopped crying, and managed to ask.

"That's where we're going." Evan said, trying to sound bright but completely failing.

* * *

"I'm here to see Alexandra Drake… where is she?" Evan demanded from the woman at the desk of the Emergency Department of Fenchurch Hospital.

"The police officer who got shot in the head?" Responded the bored looking reception. "You can't see her yet, she's having surgery."

"Surgery?" I asked, horrified.

"To get the bullet out, Scrap." Evan replied quietly. He then turned to the receptionist, and asked, in his most forced patient voice, "Do you know when my goddaughter will be out of surgery?"

"It's a very complicated procedure, sir." She was clearly trying to sound more clever than she actually was. "She will be there until one this morning."

"Okay… um, let's sit down and wait." Evan said to me. He led me to sit down on a cold, hard, blue plastic chair. I brought my knees up to my chin and rested my head on them, looking away from Evan, who had sat next to me. "There's nothing to worry about. Once the bullet is out, she will just need to recover."

"But what about possible nerve damage? Or excessive blood loss, or trauma to the brain?"

Evan sighed. "You need to give your brain a rest, Scraps."

"But it's true!"

"This isn't Casualty."

"I know. I learnt it off Mum."

Evan had nothing to say to that.

* * *

The wait was horrendous. I remember falling asleep for half an hour, and waking up on Evan's lap. I was beginning to feel horrible in my school uniform, and my head was starting to hurt. I didn't care, though. I refused to go back to sleep, not when Mum could be finished in theatre at any time. My senses didn't take in my surroundings, and I could hardly think straight. Everything was just a blur. I could hardly bring myself to fear the worst. I knew she would be fine. I knew it.

* * *

It was exactly one o'clock when a doctor came up to us. Evan was beginning to fall asleep, but he jumped up as fast as lightning. I stayed as still as stone, awaiting the verdict.

"I'm Dr Jones, I operated on Alex. She has survived the operation, but it's too soon to tell if there is any lasting damage. We need to observe her for a few hours."

"So she's going to be okay?" I burst out.

"Molly…" Evan reprimanded.

"It's too early to tell. If nothing goes wrong, no complications… and if she rests… than I don't see why she won't be." The doctor smiled at me, before leaving us alone.

"She's going to be okay." I decided confidently.

"Yeah… yeah, you're right, Scrap." Evan agreed half-heartedly.

My increasing confidence created an increasing appetite, and so I borrowed five pounds off of Evan and got some food and another Sprite. If this was a normal day, Mum would absolutely kill me. But it wasn't a normal day.

I realised, after checking the time at two in the morning, that it was no longer my birthday. Thirteen years old… and still hadn't blown out the candles. What did it matter if I did it a bit later? At least we'd be _able _to.

By the time I got back, Evan was looking stressed out again. I wondered whether a client had got in touch with him, and was being difficult.

"Molly, you need to know this." Evan said quietly. I sat down next to him, and looked up, interested. "Your mother is in a coma… we don't know how long she will be in it… she might never wake up…you have to start accepting that maybe…"

"Evan!" I glared at him. "Don't give up on her. She is going to survive. Can we see her?"

"Yes." He answered warily. "You go in on your own. I'll come in in a bit."

Excitedly, I found her hospital room and entered. It was weird, Mum looked more peaceful than she had appeared in months. Her skin was pale, as was the sheets she was under, and the gown she was wearing, as well as the bandage around her head. Everything was pristine and white.

"Mum? Mum? Mummy? Mummy? Mum?" I hoped she would wake up. But this… coma… that we had been informed she had gone into… apparently couldn't be penetrated by daughters talking. "The doctors got the bullet out. You're going to be okay. He said if you got plenty of rest, and if there are no complications, you're going to wake up. You're going to be fine. Mum? Mummy? Mum?"

I realised in the end that she wasn't going to hear me, and I touched her arm. I pursed my lips, hating that she couldn't hear me.

"Molly, we need to check her over now." A doctor whose name I did not know came in and informed me.

"Okay." I challenged.

"You're going to have to leave the room."

"I am not leaving my mum." I protested.

"Molly." Evan appeared at the door. "Come on, Scrap. You have all the time in the world to see her when she wakes up."

I considered this. Then, I sighed. "Goodbye Mum. See you soon." I smiled, and left the room with tears in my eyes.

My eyes slowly flickered open. I jumped up when I realised I had no idea where I was. I then remembered that I was in the hospital. And I was on the cold seat again, leaning against Evan.

"What time is it?" I asked suddenly. Evan smiled, appearing drained.

"You've only been up a second and you're already asking questions. It's half six, Scrap."

"Any news on Mum?"

Evan faltered. I could see him deciding whether or not to tell me. I gave him a suspicious look, and he sighed.

"Molly… your mum has an infection. They've given her antibiotics, but…"

"That's not that bad!" I reprimanded him for nearly scaring me. "I had an ear infection last year, and they put me on penicillin and I didn't die."

"This is an infection in her _brain_, Scrap." Evan responded, frustrated. I looked up at him.

"She'll survive." I said decidedly. "I know it."

* * *

At nine o'clock, they let me into her hospital room again. She appeared to be vacant, neither here nor there. I hoped that meant she was resting.

"Hey, Mum. I think you're going to wake up soon. I definitely think you're coming home. We can blow out the candles together. I hope the infection isn't hurting you… Mum?"

Alarm bells starting ringing in my head. The machines were starting to go crazy.

"Somebody help!" I shouted. Lots of doctors entered the room, two of them pulling in a trolley.

"Molly, you need to leave!" One of them shouted at me.

"No!" I insisted. I did, however, retreat towards the door, horrified, and scared.

"Charging… and clear!" A huge electrical sounding noise filled the room. "Try again… charging… and clear!"

This went on for ages. I knew what was coming. My full confidence that I had been emitting since stepping foot in the hospital had vanquished.

"Do we try again?" Dr Jones asked.

"She isn't responding…" Another answered.

"No!" I shouted.

"Time of death," Dr Jones announced. "9:06am."

_**- I wanted to try and make this chapter fit around Alex's messages in her time in Gene's world, hence the infection, and Molly's message being the same as in series 2. It was easier characterising Molly than Evan, so I hoped I grasped their characters okay. I don't know about reading it, but writing the last line made me very sad, and the next chapter is quite depressing, to warn you, but it gets better after that. Plus, prepare for Galex. - **_


	3. Chapter Three - Okay But Really Not Okay

"_What would really help me, Alex, is for us to become friends." An older woman, with short brown hair, who wore a suit, said. She was sat with a very attractive, younger woman, apparently called Alex, with permed short brown hair, wearing a grey dress._

"_Really?" Alex sounded delighted. _

"_We could talk sometimes. You could tell me about things that go on at work."_

_Alex's smile falters. "What sort of things?"_

"_Things that should be in public domain, not in a dark police cell?" _

"_Oh." Alex said with regretful understanding. "Okay. You want me to spy on my colleagues." _

"_I want you to do what you know is right."_

"_No." Alex appeared pained, but determined. "No, not even in death. Not even to please _you_."_

"_Do you know the one thing worse than women being refused power, DI Drake?"_

_Alex pauses, before approaching the woman. "Can we meet again? I think, that we've got off, to a bad start..."_

"_It's women, fighting to get the keys to the kingdom, and then behaving like men." The woman stood up. _

"_Please, just get to know me... I... I might even be able to save your life."_

"_Don't want to get to know you. Thank God the only thing my daughter shares with you is her name. I'd be ashamed if she grew up to be like you."_

I woke up with a start. It had been two years since my mother died. Two years that seemed to go at snail pace. I was now fifteen, and not a day went by without thinking of Mum. I managed to get A* in my first Biology exam... I was good at that, and Evan told me Mum always did well in that too.

I visited her grave a lot, but I hated it. The whole place had an eerie feel to it, and once I had explored it a few times, I started to go less frequently. My hair was now darker... just like Mum, whose blonde hair grew gradually darker.

The last time I saw Dad, was at the funeral, when I declared that I would rather live with Evan than him, and he took offence and stopped coming to see me. But that was cool. Evan knew just how to deal with me when Mum first passed... presumably because Evan had to look after Mum once _her _parents died. Poor bloke.

It was a weekend, thank goodness, so I didn't have to spend my birthday with all the idiots in my year. Some were alright... but they were quite silly. Immature. Maybe I found them ignorant... their lack of experience with life... they came from proper, religious families, where the parents didn't have a kid and split up at a young age, and where the mother didn't get shot in the head.

So instead I studied, and I think I'm one of the top in the year now. My goal was to study psychology, like Mum did. But school was becoming tedious. I had been attending the same Catholic school since I was four. People asked me if I even believed, what with everything that happened to me, but I never had an answer. It wasn't something I had ever thought about, and I thought about a lot of things.

Evan was out the morning of my fifteenth birthday... some lawyer business. Now that year 10 exams were over I didn't have any revision to do, so that meant by day could be spent purely by eating lots of food, and visiting Mum's grave. On my fourteenth, I refused to enjoy the day, which upset Evan, as instead I mused over how that was the day Mum was shot. I didn't want to do that this year, and I was almost excited.

I decided to have a long, relaxing shower to start the day... however, it was far from relaxing. The hot fumes must have done something to my head. I felt dizzy, and shut my eyes tight.

_The same two women were together again, only this time they were sitting on different sides of a table in a small room. A police interviewing room. _

"_I think you need help, Alex." Caroline said._

"_I'm trying to help myself... I have to get back to my daughter."_

"_What's your daughter's name?"_

"_Molly."_

"_That's a pretty name. My grandmother was called Molly. She was a suffragette, we're all very proud of her."_

"_Yes." Alex appeared to already know this._

"_Go to your little girl, Alex."_

"_She needs me."_

"_You need her."_

I came out of the trance, shaking like a leaf, despite the warm temperature. That was most definitely not a dream. I wasn't asleep, for start off. And they were discussing _me_. Grandma Price died in 1981... so this must be set then. That explained clothing... we did a project on 80's fashion once.

Mum said she was trying to get back to me. I don't recall her going on holiday at all away from me... it couldn't possibly mean... no... no, this was a dream slash vision, that has been brought on by my grief. I had read enough of my mum's psychology books to know that. Quickly, I escaped from the shower, beginning to feel trapped, and scared of another one of these visions I was having. I was having hallucinations... this could be hypnagogic hallucinations... I didn't even know. Perhaps it was as a result of this being _the day._ Nevertheless, I got dressed, dried my hair and went downstairs. Evan hadn't left any presents, as he liked to be there when I opened them, so after a quick breakfast, I left a note, saying where I was going, and I went to the graveyard.

The sun was shining, and the roads were busy, as I rushed to where my mother was buried. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the grass seemed extraordinarily green. The perfect day. I didn't need to think about where I was going, my feet automatically took me to where I needed to go.

_In loving memory of Alexandra Drake, 1973 – 2008. Mother to Molly Drake, daughter to Tim and Caroline Price. An outstanding police officer. May she be reunited with her parents at last._

I replaced the dead bunch of roses, which protested the minute I placed them there a few weeks ago, and died pretty much straight away, for some strange reason. Instead, I placed down a bouquet of lillies, which glimmered in the sunlight. I sat down, cross legged.

"It's my fifteenth today." I liked to think she could hear and see me. "You must know that though. You've nearly been dead for two years. I never blew out the candles that year, or even last year... it didn't feel right. Evan got me a cake this year though, I found it on top of the fridge... like I wasn't going to find it there. When I blow out the fifteen candles... will you be there? Can you become a ghost and transport yourself down there? Or are you having a bottle of wine at some pub or something?"

At the word 'pub', I became dizzy again. A sudden nausea filled my stomach, like acid, and my eyes, once again, shut tight.

_Alex was on an alleyway, walking away from some girls who looked like prostitutes towards a tall man, with floppy blonde hair who stood proudly. _

"_Are you stalking me, Hunt?" She asked._

"_What are you up to?" He asked, as the two began to walk away, towards a red car with two, very 80s looking men leaning against it, smoking. The man, whose last name was Hunt, had a strong, northern accent._

"_I'm warning these girls about Trixie's attacker, somebody has to. Maybe I should go down to Kings Cross."_

"_Why, are we not payin' you enough?" He asked. She glared at him, noting that he was joking about her becoming a prostitute herself._

"_I just want these girls to be safe."_

"_Am I missin' something 'ere, but um, why are you so bothered about 'em?"_

"_Does there have to be a reason?" She sounded annoyed._

"_Yes." He insisted. Alex sighed. The two of them stopped, and stood facing each other near the car._

"_All right. Okay. The skeleton in the closet. The private education... years at Oxbridge... all counted for nothing, really. Because I, Alex Drake, was once... a prostitute."_

"_Bloody hell." Said one of the men leaning against the car, with dark floppy hair, as opposed to Hunt's blonde._

"_I knew it." Said the other one, with tight curls, sniggering. Both had northern accents also._

"_There. I said it." Alex said to Hunt. He chuckled to himself, and looked her up and down._

"_Christ on a bike." He said. _

"_Well... that wasn't as bad as I thought it might be." Alex sounded pleased._

"_Are you tellin' me that you _lied _to get into the force?" Hunt asked. _

"_No, actually." Alex said, finally having had enough. Hunt looked confused._

"_Eh?"_

"_What I just told you was a lie. I said it to show how your preconceptions can inform your judgements about other people, especially prostitutes. Sorry." She didn't sound particularly sorry. _

"_Sometimes, I hate you, Drake."_

_Alex laughed slightly. "So I'm not how you expect a prostitute to be. If I said that I'd been raped, you would believe me, but not someone like Trixie, not a woman like that."_

"_No, not hate... despise." Hunt corrected himself. Alex was beginning to look annoyed._

"_All right... so I'm not a hooker. But if I was," Alex began to walk closer to Hunt, "do you know something Gene? You... could never, ever, afford me." Their faces were right up close now, both glaring at each other. Once Gene Hunt started talking, Alex drew back slightly, annoyed and yet showing angry interest in what he said._

"_You know, you might talk with a plum in yer gob, love, but I would rather go with one of _them_," He indicated the prostitutes behind him, "than waste my money on some bitter, twisted, messed up, clench arsed, toffee nosed bitch, like you."_

_Alex glared, then slapped him right across the face. He recovered, trying to keep calm and regain his stance. _

"_Do you feel better now?"_

"_No." Alex said. She then punched him in the face. "Better now."_

_And she walked away. _

I opened my eyes. I was beginning to really not like these visions... as much as they intrigued me, the vividness and reality of them hurt me, because it was like losing my mum all over again after them. I especially didn't like that man, Gene Hunt. He seemed to me to be like a big bully, and very ignorant also.

"I don't know if what I just saw was real, Mum." I eventually said. "But if it was... which it can't be, as it isn't psychologically possible... I'm glad you hit him."

And then, feeling almost proud of my mum, I got up and walked away. When I got home, which didn't take me very long as I was very keen to get well away from that graveyard, Evan was home. He had a few more grey streaks now, and a couple more wrinkles, but other than that he appeared to be the same Evan.

"Happy Birthday, Scrap!" He greeted me, picking me up and swinging me around. "You're getting a big for this, now." It was true, like my mother, I was becoming very tall. He put me down. "You all right? You're very pale."

"I didn't sleep very well." I casually informed him. "Do I have presents?"

"No." He replied, his great attempt at humour. I rolled my eyes and followed him into the living room, where a few neatly wrapped presents were on the coffee table. I smiled slightly and went over to unwrap them. The first was a picture frame with a picture of me and him, in his attempt to make my new bedroom more... bedroom like. The second, some stud earrings, the third, a new iPod, which was awesome, and then finally, a Blackberry.

"I already have one?" I asked, confused.

"The contract was a two year contract, it expires today, so now you have a new one." Evan answered cheerfully.

"_What did Evan get you for your birthday, Molls?"_

"_A Blackberry."_

It had been ages since I'd been called Molls. A few tears filled my eyes, which I quickly blinked away. I remembered my promise 'no crying, no stubbornness, and no morbid talk'.

"Thank you." I smiled, and went to hug him.

"I hope you like them?" He asked anxiously.

"Yes. I really do." I smiled at him. I was nearly the same height as him now.

"You become more and more like your mother, everyday."

"I do?" I asked, quite pleased.

"Yes. Next thing you'll be swanning off to do a psychology degree and have to fight off every guy with clever talk."

I had a sudden flashback to the vision I had, where Mum was using her psychology skills to completely own Gene Hunt. I had a sudden thought... maybe Evan would know him? Evan knew everybody.

"Do you know anyone called Gene Hunt?" I asked. Evan frowned at me, looking wary.

"I used to... why?"

"I just heard the name." It wasn't really a lie...

"Where?" Evan demanded.

"Evan!" I protested. He sighed.

"He... was DCI of Fenchurch East when I was younger. I haven't seen him or..." He stopped in his tracks, looking very confused.

"What?" I asked, extremely interested.

"Nothing." He finally said. "Right, let's go for a birthday lunch, shall we? Pizza Express. Go and get ready, Scrap."

The lunch was nice, the afternoon and evening was pleasant, and I even got a birthday card from Dad, with twenty pounds inside! And I felt... okay. Evan bought me the Complete Works of Shakespeare while we were out, which I read for the majority of the evening, and I looked forward to taking in on Monday to school, to show that I read intellectual books such as that.

Blowing out the candles was quite emotional, I must admit. I just remembered Mum's final words to me "We'll blow out the candles together, okay?".

"_Hello?" Alex called out. She was alone in the restaurant. She sat down, and she smiled slightly, as though thinking of something pleasant. "I've learnt something here, Molly. Something that I hope you always knew. My mother... loved me. And that love will... keep me going, will make me survive... Don't blow those candles out yet, Molls. I'll find my way home. I promise. I love you. And I will never, ever give up."_

"But you didn't come back!" I burst out. Evan looked at me strangely.

"Scrap? Blow the candles out, love."

I looked down at the cake, all fifteen candles burning brightly. I, again, blinked away the tears in my eyes, and blew out the candles.

"Make a wish." He smiled. I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on."

"Fine." I glared. I wished that I could see her again. It sounded silly, but I clung onto that wish for a very long time after that. Evan stared at me for a few moments.

"Are you okay, Scrap? Seriously?"

"Yes, I am." I smiled genuinely. I was starting to think I really, _really_, wasn't, but I was okay with that.

_**- Okay, so series 1 galore here. I was only going to have one moment, but then I couldn't decide which one, so ended up using four. I wanted to portray that Molly had actually gotten older, whilst still showing that she is the same person... hope I did that okay! I had the most fun writing the Galex moment... I had to choose a bit which showed the chemistry, whilst showing their personalities clashing, and that moment fitted the bill. I hope you're enjoying it thus far... it's all about to become more interesting, especially as Evan seems to remember the DI Drake from his past... being especially similar to the Alex he knew two years ago. - **_


	4. Chapter Four - Pieces of the Jigsaw

"Could you tell us, Molly, what did this man look like?" Asked a patronising woman across the table from me. Before I could reply, Evan spoke up. He was my 'brief'.

"Before my goddaughter answers any of your questions, I want to know why the case has been dropped for the last two years." He sounded really angry, and I agreed with him. Their DI had been murdered, and they hadn't even been bothering. The woman, DS James, looked uncomfortable.

"You told us that you didn't want Molly answering any questions after her mother's death…. And we accepted that, and then the Harrison case sprung up, which took up our attention. We've had a busy two years, Mr White! But we're doing all we can now, so please, if Molly could answer… as a prime witness…"

"He was quite ugly." I stated. "He had really greasy grey hair, but you know what he looks like because loads of people saw him, you even know his name." Evan chuckled next to me.

"We are just seeing if your memory is up to scratch, Molly. "

"I do remember, I'm not an idiot."

DS James was beginning to lose her patience with us.

"So, did he say anything that struck you as odd?" Her patronising tone had been abruptly replaced with a cold and abrupt manner.

"Well most things he said were odd. He said he'd blow my brains out, that it was his show, and started singing Ashes to Ashes… he also mentioned Mum's parents."

"I don't think this is getting anywhere, Sergeant. He did not tell Molly where he was going to be hiding out. Rather than asking fifteen year old girls ridiculous questions, I think you would be better off finding Alex's killer. Now, it's getting late, and Molly has homework to do, so I'm taking her home now. Good day, officer."

And with that, Evan got up and strode over to the door, opening it for me to leave out of.

"Bye." I said coldly, and quickly rushed out of the room.

Evan ranted in the car all the way home. I'm sure CID had their reasons for dropping Mum's case, but I still felt just as irritable as he did, and dinner was a very quiet affair, the two of us just wanting to go to bed.

It had been a few days since my last 'vision', so I was absolutely sure that it was just because it was my birthday, and Mum's death day, and I was feeling particularly highly strung. A part of me wasn't happy about this, they really intrigued me, but I knew that it was an unhealthy thing to happen to me, and that I was better off without them.

I did wonder why Evan was so desperate to get me out of the police station. If my statement was going to help, why would he be against that. I voiced this question to him, whilst eating my favourite meal, pasta, and he sighed.

"You're only fifteen, Scrap, you shouldn't have to be questioned by the police over your mother's murderer."

"But if it would help… He spoke to me, so they have to, I guess."

"It might not even _be _Arthur Layton." Evan pointed out.

"It obviously is…" I argued.

"Yeah, that _would _make sense."

"What do you mean?" I ask, catching on to how there seemed to be a hidden meaning behind this.

"Never you mind." Evan sighed.

"No, you have to tell me." I demanded, leaning forward.

"No." Evan said with finality.

"Yes!" I responded desperately. Evan looked at me for a long, long time, his eyes full of shame and anxiety. Finally, he pushed his empty plate away, downed a large glass of wine and sighed again.

"Molly, what you need to know is that this happened a very long time ago. But I regret it every single day…" I didn't say anything, and he started his story. "In 1981, my best friend, Tim Price… your grandad, went away. And myself and Caroline, your grandma, had an affair. Your mother was only eight at the time, and she had no idea. Well, somebody working on her house took pictures of us… hm, and then blackmailed her with them. The police got involved and they took the pictures, thank goodness, but they judged us for it… especially…" Evan paused, looking painfully confused again, "um, the DI… and that was it. However, Tim did find out… and he, to cut the story short, got Arthur Layton, who was already in jail, out, to get him the explosives to blow up him and his family in the car, after picking Alex up from school."

I said nothing, glaring at Evan and taking this in. So Grandad Price killed him and Grandma? Because of an affair, Evan had with Grandma Price.

"Please don't hate me, Scrap, it was a moment of madness…"

"How did Mum survive?" I asked coldly, changing the subject.

"She, by some miracle, ran out. She wanted to get her balloon. I went to run to her, but _Gene Hunt_ got there first."

"Gene Hunt? But…" This confused me, Gene Hunt was Mum's colleague. But that was just a vision. Gene Hunt must have been brought in because of his involvement with looking after Mum, that must have been it.

"But what?" Evan asked.

"Nothing." I said quickly. "So, um… you and my grandma…?"

"It was a mistake, Scrap. A stupid mistake, that happened twenty seven years ago."

"Yeah… I know." I smiled. I didn't want to overreact. I checked the time, and it was getting late, so I bid Evan goodnight and went upstairs to bed, and fell asleep almost straight away afterwards. It didn't stay that way.

"_You're not gettin' it, are you, Bolls? I _had _to join, even though it sickens me to the pit o' my stomach. In the words of Marlon Brando, you keep yer friends close, and yer enemies' closer! How am I suppos' to take on the Super and fin' out how this miserable thing goes if I'm being pensioned off early and left to rot in some bungalow in Margate? I'll tell you this, Drake, I hate it, I hate what they're doin' to this force."_

_Alex is speechless. "You're playing with them?"_

"_No, tha's jus' the way I'm standin'…" Alex looked almost emotional. "I almos' told you 'bout it on a couple of occasions, but, er, this is risky stuff, far better that you didn't know what I was up to. Tha' said, I didn't take into account wha' a determined pair of stockins' you actually are." _

"… _you can't just let Battleford go."_

"_Oh, e'll get life, I'll see to that. But we have even bigger fish to fry in this hornets' nest. We only have one stab at it or else it'll be like rats leavin' a sinkin' ship."_

_Alex smiled. "Metaphors. All over the shot…"_

"_I _know. _Clever, innit? So righ' now, I need to be square with Super dooper Macintosh, okay?" He stepped closer to Alex. Alex sighed._

"_And what about Kevin Hales, did you have anything to do with stitching him up?"_

"_No, and I dunno know where he's gotten, either, but for now we'll keep that to ourselves. Things are gettin' a bit tasty round here."_

_Alex turned away and went and sat on the table. "You know, I, um, think I know what's important… and then I forget." Alex sighed. Gene walked over to her and leaned on the chair._

"_What's important is you remember you're one of us."_

_Alex smiled. "Thank you."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I'm scared, a lot of the time, and you were, well, one of the only things that I could rely on. By being stubborn, and angry… conceited…"_

"_You'll have me blushin'." _

_Alex sighed, and laughed. "You don't get it, do you? You don't get it. I thought I lost you." _

_The door opened._

Another dream. I punched my pillow in frustration… I had no idea what was happening, or what I was seeing. I didn't like not knowing. Feeling suddenly sick, I quickly got up and rushed to the bathroom, and leant over the sink, looking at my pale and flushed reflection in the mirror, my brown hair messy.

_Alex stood with a gun pointed at a man with sunken eyes, grey hair who stood by the doorway. _

"_Hello Alex." He said with an Irish accent._

"_Who are you?" She whispered._

"_My name is Martin Summers."_

"_You stay where you are." _

"_Go ahead, shoot. Though I have to warn you, that you may be getting rid of the one person who can help you here. So, don't be scared."_

_Alex smiled humourlessly. "You make intimidating phone calls, you send me roses like some sort of crazed stalker, you try and poison me. Shouldn't be scared."_

"_I had to make sure you were the person I was looking for. And you are. There aren't a lot of people here from the other world, apparently you and I are the only two."_

_Alex readied her gun, getting very worked up now._

"_Try to spook me out with this."_

"_If I were to say to you, you'd been shot in the head, you've just arrived at the hospital, and Molly is on her way to see you." Alex lowered her gun, shocked. "Would that help convince you?"_

I gasped. No… no that is impossible. She went there… because she was shot. And ages had passed since my vision on my birthday and today… but apparently all that had happened in one afternoon. I abruptly through up, beginning to feel feverish. Evan rushed in, a few moments after I started, to hold my hair back and comfort me, before I passed out.

_Alex and Gene are standing facing each other, inside an office. Alex looks emotional. _

"_I'm from the future." She finally uttered out. "I was shot… and I woke up here… with you. Just like Sam Tyler… only this is my reality. And I am fighting, not to die, because if I die, I will never get home. And it's insane, but there it is. And I trust you, which is why I'm telling you the truth… Guv?"_

"_You know, I ask for the truth, and you piss in my face."_

I woke up to Evan carrying me back to my bed, a huge pain in my head, a pain that felt almost as bad as how Alex and Gene emotionally felt in my most recent vision.

_**So… more visions for Molly… and she is starting to realise… It pained me to write the last vision… I had to listen to it too, so now I'm sad. The next chapter is the last of the realisation stages. Hope you're enjoying it thus far! Note, the visions are supposed to be all rushed together, as opposed to me getting carried away :L - **_


	5. Chapter Five - Not Mad, Not Mad, Not Mad

As a result of my episode the night before, Evan rang the school the next day, saying I was ill. I actually felt fine after my sleep, although it was school policy that if a student was sick, they had to stay off for 48 hours, so I had two days of no school ahead of me. Most students would relish this opportunity, especially as Evan would be at work so I had the house to myself, but instead I began to conduct my own investigation.

First of all, I created a timeline of my visions. I got a piece of A4 paper and wrote down the chain of events. On another sheet, I wrote down what I had learnt;

Firstly – Mum gets shot in the head by _Arthur Layton_. She ends up in the 1980's, with _Gene Hunt_ and a _Martin Summers _turns up.

Secondly – time is different there. 

Thirdly – Sam Tyler had the same thing

Fourthly – Arthur Layton caused my grandparents to die. He then kills Mum. Am I next?

Fifthly – Am I going off my head, or am I genuinely seeing genuine visions?

Happy with my list, I got out an A5 lined notepad. What was I to do first? I decided that the first two would be quite impossible for me to look into anything to do with _that _place… assuming of course, I wasn't going mad.

So, I made up my mind that what I should focus on is finding out as much as I could about Sam Tyler. I remembered coming to the conclusion, back in the front of Mum's car, that this bloke was mad. Maybe… maybe because that was the day that Mum got shot, I was making links… Sam went back to 1973… I had dreams of Mum going back to 1981…

Also, I _had_ to find Arthur Layton. He _had _to know something. And he deserved to rot inside a cold, dusty cell. And I was going to need Evan's help.

Everything had become so _confusing_. These were just dreams, for goodness sake! I should be thinking about seeing a psychologist, not trying to learn about them. But on two occasions in my dreams had it been said that Mum was shot and woke up in that world. And that she was fighting to see _me_. I couldn't just ignore that.

I never usually slept during the day, so when Evan rang me at lunch time, and told me to sleep, and I refused. Although I did give my brain a rest, and decided to watch some TV. I turned on the TV and it was on the wrong AV… so I changed it. And got a different channel to what I was expecting.

_It's late at night, and Alex and Gene are sat either side of a desk, looking at each other. Alex's hair was much shorter and straight now, with a quiff. Gene looked exactly the same._

"_Why did you have to come crashing in like that? I was just getting somewhere with her." Alex sounded as though she had lost some of her… light, energy._

"'_Cos I'm not lettin' you take all the glory with little Jimmy."_

"_Just can't stand not being in control, can you?"_

"_You know, you presuppose that the killer is a man. Well wha' if I manage to flush out that the killer is a woman."_

"_Control freak." Alex decided. They both look down to forms they were filling out._

"_Wha' did you put for favourite meal?"_

"_It's personal." Alex almost teased._

"_It's a police investigation." Gene countered. _

"_Uh… I would say the most amazing roast vogoire with gooseberry, braised conveux and cracked biscuit.…What did you put?"_

"_Steak and chips." Gene simply said. _

"_Favourite artist?"_

"_Herb Alpert, and The Tijuana Brass."_

"_Herb Alpert?"_

"_Yeah, women love it. Reminds 'em of sun and sea and gettin' poked behind an electricity substation in Torrelomanos. What did you put?"_

"_George Braque."_

"_You know what, yer gonna get every soppy, postular virgin this side of the Blackwell Tunnel."_

"_At least I'll get some replies." Alex took Gene's sheet. "Favourite drink? Bitter… but only from Central Manchester. Favourite film… High Noon. Most admired person… Winston Churchill. Philosophy on the opposite sex… maid in the living room, cook in the kitchen, whore in the bedroom." Alex looked deeply unimpressed. _

"_Women admire honesty, Bolls."_

"_You know how many replies you're going to get, don't you? None."_

I switched off the TV and punched the floor in protest.

"What is wrong with me?" I shouted. I took some breaths. "And why does he call her Bolls?" I suddenly questioned.

I grabbed the timeline I made and added to it. I also added a note to the last point on my 'things I have learnt' list, which I then realised was badly named as I have learnt nothing. I decided I had to speak to Evan. I trusted that he wouldn't cart me off to see a psychologist. Maybe he even had visions himself?

And I spent the rest of the afternoon switching through the channels, trying to find something else to see. Sadly, I didn't, and it was when Evan arrived I realised just how obsessed I was becoming, and Evan clearly thought _something _was happening.

"Scrap, what are you doing?" He asked.

"Just bored." I replied. "Evan, can I talk to you, please?"

"Yeah sure… what's up?"

"Firstly, _please _don't say that."

"Isn't that the 'cool' thing?"

"No. Sit down!" I rushed him. He did so. I didn't want to go straight into the whole 'hey guess what I'm having hallucinations about Mum and that Gene Hunt dude' so I simply started with a question.

"You know 1981?"

"Molly, I already told you it didn't mean…"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the police."

Evan relaxed slightly, and then frowned. "What about them?"

"You mentioned a Gene Hunt… was there a woman there too?" This was the big question. How he responded to this determined everything.

"I… I can't remember." He flustered. That proved it. He knew it was Mum. Or was beginning to know.

"You do." I lightly noted. Evan stared at me.

"What?"

"You know it was a woman called DI Drake."

Evan looked nervous, worried as though I would think him mad, which was quite funny really, given what I was about to say.

"I did." Evan muttered. "It's impossible… but, Scrap, now don't tell me I'm mad because I can assure you, DI Alex Drake was… your mother. But she was in the same _room _as the eight year old her, it's preposterous."

"I'm having visions… hallucinations." I told him, matter of factly. "Her… Gene Hunt… Grandma Price… it's all so real, Evan. There's a restaurant, and a red car…"

"Luigis. And the Quattro. How can you be seeing this? No. No, this is ridiculous, I refuse to believe…" And with that, Evan left the room. I had always noticed that Evan, my godfather Evan White, was a bit… set in his ways, perhaps? Anything that didn't conform just didn't agree with him. I, on the other hand, was open to new things, they intrigued me. Which was why I was comfortably sat on the sofa, now absolutely positive that I wasn't going mad and keen to carry on my investigation, whilst Evan was probably pouring himself a large glass of wine to block it out. He'll come round, I thought to myself. And when that happens, the two of us will solve this.

And I still thought that the key… was Layton.

_**S*** IS GOING DOWN NEXT CHAPTER. This is my third chapter today and it's half ten so I think I'll start that tomorrow after school. Kindly review and stuff. Note that I had no idea what Alex was saying when telling Gene what her favourite meal was… and so I had to go with it. ALSO right this minute, my friend Nadine is watching Ashes to Ashes for the first time! Good luck to her haha. - **_


	6. Chapter Six - Progress Then A Fall

A week had passed… a week of obsessive investigating and a lot of brain ache. Evan insisted that I still attended school… however he didn't go to work, preferring to stay at home and come up with new theories to present to me later. It didn't matter so much that he wasn't attending… he was reaching retirement age, and his job as a lawyer allowed him this, he just wasn't going to be getting paid.

We hadn't really made much progress. We were still stuck on, Mum gets shot, sent back to 1981. Evan told me his version of events of the car bomb… that Mum, Gene Hunt, and himself were witnesses to the attack. Gene took a younger Mum back to the station. The three of them had a discussion, and Evan begged that he was to look after Alex. Gene destroyed evidence of Grandad Price admitting to the suicide and murder, and then Evan took younger Mum well away from CID, vowing to not ever see elder Mum or Gene again. So he had no idea of what happened to Mum after that day. She could even still be there, for all we knew.

What we were focusing on mainly is finding this out. There was no way of us doing this… and we couldn't trace Gene Hunt anywhere… he wasn't on Google, or in any database. That was one thing we found strange… but we couldn't dwell on it. We finally made that decision the night before, at about one in the morning, which is why I was falling asleep in my Geography class, despite my determination to stay awake… it didn't help that it was during a controlled assessment.

"Miss Drake! Wake up!" Mrs Harrison shouted at me. Highly embarrassed, I sat up like nothing happened and continued to write about something tedious. I held my head up, daring one of the girls in my class to hiss a comment… stupid idiots.

Finally, the lesson, and the day, ended, and I quickly headed outside, where Evan was waiting for me in the car. I smiled smugly, as it began to rain, and some of the girls who I didn't like had to walk home in it.

"We have a lead, Scrap." Evan informed me, smiling slightly.

"What? Have you tracked down Hunt?" I asked eagerly.

"Not exactly… but CID are closer to tracking down Layton…"

"What's happened?" I demanded.

"Well… there has been a massive withdrawal in his bank account… they may have not been working on the case, but they have been keeping tabs on his bank account… and it hasn't be touched for over two years, but today a huge amount of money has been taken out."

"How do they know it was him? It could have been an identity hack, or…"

"Stop thinking so much, Scrap." Evan sounded amused. "Just accept it's Layton. We now need to work out where he's going, and hopefully stop him."

"And then he'll go to jail?" I asked hopefully.

"He'd better. Unfortunately they aren't a fan of capital punishment anymore…" Evan joked, and I laughed. If Layton goes to jail… would Mum come back? No… no, if she really is at this world… she has to stay there… her body is dead here. But maybe something might _help_? Maybe if she's in pain… it'll go? But I felt incredibly proud as we drove home… even though I didn't personally do anything. The hallucinations had stopped, truth was finally beginning to come out, and Layton was going to jail!

I decided, once I got home, to visit the grave again. I had avoided it since my episode… I wasn't altogether comfortable having a hallucination out of the house, but now I was comfortable I wouldn't have another one, and in one of my rare happy moods, I decided to pay her a visit.

But I got side tracked. Now that there had been a development, I started to crave more. So on the way, I decided to go to the place where Layton first came into our lives. It hadn't changed. Maybe I was expecting the whole place to be covered in black to mark the events… but it was unchangeable. I walked around, remembering how the place had been cautioned off by the police last time I was there… and those steps.

Eagerly, I walked over to the steps. It made me feel close to my mother… and I was suddenly intrigued. I never noticed how it was like the world's most disgusting beach… with muddy sand and the murky waters of the Thames. I continued to make my way across the sand, lost in thought with a strange feeling, a cold chill down my back, that I associated with what had happened there.

"Ah, little Molly Drake. Not so little now." Said the dreaded voice behind me. I slowly turned, and there he was. Standing before me, a mirror image of the man I saw on my thirteenth birthday. I took a sharp breath. I remembered my list. And I remembered the point that I was so silly to forget.

Fourthly – Arthur Layton caused my grandparents to die. He then kills Mum. Am I next?

_Am I next? _Oh dear… oh no…

"Don't hurt me." I pleaded gently. "Please… you've killed my grandparents, you killed my mum… leave me be."

"Oh, but that's the fun, Molly Drake. The whole of your family… your lawyer grandparents and all the crap they stood for… your psychologist policewoman of a mother… and now you. A school girl. Don't look at me like that, Molly Drake!"

"Um… Arthur, please. I'm just a child, you can't hurt me… I won't tell anyone I've seen you, but please, just leave me be."

"Just a child? I would have blown your mummy to smithereens, had she not got out the car. Think I've gotten nicer over the years? Just because my empire is in shatters?"

"Uh…" I tried desperately to think of what Mum would have done. Some clever psychological tactic. I, unfortunately, wasn't a psychologist. Just a GCSE student. No hope. So I pretty much imitated my mother. "Let's talk about that, then?"

"I've heard you're becoming a mini-me of Alex, but don't expect that to work on me. Face it, Molly Drake. You are dead."

"I won't allow it!" I shouted, losing control, staring right at him.

"Don't look at me!" He cowered.

I continued to look up at him. He slowly raised a gun.

"No! No, please!" I shouted. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME, PLE…"

Bang.

"_Molly, come on, we're going to be late!" Mum hurried me. "It's the harvest festival today, you can't miss that!"_

"_Molly… I'm sorry… but I won't be able to see you this year." Dad sighed. "I know it's your tenth birthday, but I have a business trip in Germany."_

"_Hey Scrap, don't tell your mother but here's a Coke." Evan whispered, passing a Coke._

"_I drew a picture of you, Molls." Grandad Drake said quietly, passing the spot on picture._

"_You have _beautiful _hair, Molls, you look more and more like your mother everyday… not that I knew her when she was your age… the only way you're like my son is when you lie." Grandma Drake joked._

_Arthur Layton's face._

_A gun._

_A bullet. _

_Darkness. _

_Mrs Harrison. She leaned in, darkness still surrounding her. She wore only black. Her head was veiled. "Molly Drake! Wake up!" She shouted, just like in Geography._

I woke up.

**_- So she's been shot. Dun dun dunnnnnnnn. It's taken me hours to write this simple chapter... I've been getting a lot of distractions. I may or may not write another one tonight, but if I don't, it'll probably be a few days. Not that there are loads of you just waiting on my every chapter or anything pha. - _**


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